


Damaged

by morrezela



Series: Bitten [11]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Baby Werewolves, Kid Fic, M/M, Mpreg, Peril, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Changed Timestamp: Something horrible happens to Jensen when he goes for a wolf run in the woods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damaged

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: MPreg, mentions of knotting, werewolves, angst, premature birth, sadness, graphic birth descriptions
> 
> All mistakes you find are my own.

“It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be fine,” Jensen reminds himself as another pain shoots through his body. It isn’t supposed to be happening like this. Second pregnancies are supposed to be easier. What is happening to him is not easier.

The new baby wasn’t planned. Not that he is unwanted, not at all. Jensen has always been very certain that he wants a large family. He likes pups, and he wants to be a good father to them. He and Jared just hadn’t exactly been trying when he got pregnant.

It isn’t unheard of for there to be an accidental pregnancy in a pack, but it is uncommon enough that there were jokes floating around Denton for weeks after Jensen’s scent started showing. The timing on it had to have been just right. Turned male bearers don’t have the fertility rates that women do. They have to be in heat to conceive. Knotting is a requirement unless modern medicine is intervening.

But if one’s mate happens to knot him the night before one’s heat starts… Well Jensen’s been talked about before, so his surprise pregnancy hadn’t been that horrible of a thing to have rotating through the gossip circles. The worst part was enduring the speculation from all of the other expecting parents on who his latest progeny was going to grow up to mate.

Jensen remains amazed at how concerned people are about who their child is going to pair off with. Maybe it’s the human in him, but he has never had the urge to push Dustin at the other toddlers in the hopes that he’ll decide to marry the girl with the red curls who plays nice with her dollies over the annoying brat who keeps bonking other children with his toy trucks just to make them cry. Raise a kid right, and he’ll make good decisions. That is what Jensen believes.

At the moment, Jensen is wishing that he had paid more attention to other personal beliefs of his. Namely, he wishes that he had heeded the one where he doesn’t trust his werewolf instincts. He has spent most of his life as a human on the sidelines. Observation does not equal experience. But Jared and the rest of the pack have always considered him a pack member. They constantly encourage him to rely on his instincts, shift more.

“‘Shift more. It’s good for the baby,’” Jensen mocks as he presses a hand down on his belly. It doesn’t make the pain any less intense, but it gives him something to focus on. “Fucking assholes,” he mutters as he uses his other hand to grab hold of a tree and drag himself up onto his feet.

The pinecones, twigs and rocks of the forest floor dig unmercifully into his tender human soles, but shifting back to his wolf form is a very bad idea. If he does that, he’ll maybe make it five feet before he collapses on his side as his body betrays him – again.

When he had woken up that morning, the urge to shift and go for a run had been intense. The need to go hide in the forest had been creeping up on him like it never had before. The rest of the pack had been encouraging him to explore these urges. The disquiet that his body kept giving him had gotten to be annoying, so Jensen had dropped Dustin off at daycare before calling into work and taking the day off.

That, it turned out, was a phenomenally stupid mistake. Wolf instincts suck. Jensen is now completely and utterly aware of that fact. He’d run deep and long into the forest, following the scent that his primal brain told him he needed to trace. Once he’d gotten himself tucked away in a craggy, protected area the muscle cramps started.

At first Jensen had thought that it was just his body protesting the exercise. He was far from out of shape, but the majority of his physical exertion happened in his human form. He was more comfortable in it. The explanation had made logical sense right before he had fallen over in pain. The muscle contractions had gone from a dull ache to a sharp stab. Thinking the word ‘contraction’ was what had brought Jensen’s brain back online.

The way that his abdomen was rippling and pulsing wasn’t normal. Not in a member of the male species anyway, but then again being pregnant wasn’t normal either. Adding that to the fact that he wasn’t anywhere near his due date equaled big trouble. Jensen had started sprinting homeward, but halfway back to civilization, his body had given out on him.

Male werewolves who carry pups don’t have birth canals. The impregnation process is a combination of osmosis and insanity as far as doctors are concerned. But Jensen and others like him exist, which means that they aren’t as unnatural as the rest of biology would like to tell them that they are. Their bodies know how to get their children out of them. It is just Jensen’s bad luck that his decided to try to deliver early.

The pain is bearable only because Jensen doesn’t have any other choice. He isn’t going to sacrifice his child’s safety. He is going to march back to town, one naked footstep at a time and get to a hospital. Crying about it won’t do him any good, but tears make their way out anyway.

There is no proof that his child is okay, but there hadn’t been any prior warning signs that the pregnancy was going poorly either. His last checkup had been stellar, golden even. All signs had been pointing to another textbook pregnancy.

But now he is struggling to put one naked, human foot in front of the other while he staggers towards civilization. His feet are bleeding, but it’s the pain in his torso that bothers him. The muscle spasms, they can’t be contractions, he won’t them be, are intensifying. The urge to shift is becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Within minutes, Jensen is on the forest floor clawing his way along. He isn’t going to give up. He refuses. But his body isn’t listening to his commands to keep upright. The forest debris that had been digging into his human feet is now scratching up his belly and thighs. It hurts, but not as badly as his insides do.

Even when the moon reaches its fullest sway, Jensen has never felt the need to shift like he does at the moment. His whole being is telling him he has to do it. As much as Jensen tells himself that his mind is stronger, he knows that isn’t true. The years he spent observing the pack from a solely human view has given him insight into just how much a werewolf is governed by his or her nature.

They aren’t beasts. They aren’t slaves to some animalistic mindset, but they are different from humans. Their compulsions are different, not wrong. One of those compulsions is the need to give into the wolf. They don’t lose sentience with the shift, but instinct is different when a guy is on four paws versus two feet. Even when dealing with Dustin, Jensen’s paternal instincts are different when he shifts forms.

Those instincts are paternal, not maternal. Jensen doesn’t care what his mate says. He sure doesn’t care about Jared’s comments about human conditioning.

Thinking about fighting with Jared gives Jensen an adrenalin rush that boosts his dragging speed, but the end result is just that he ends up winded and panting, clutching his now bleeding stomach as it cramps up with the effort of trying to make birthing contractions.

“Fuck,” Jensen whispers into the patch of moss that his cheek is resting against. He isn’t going to make it back to town. He can already feel his tail trying to lengthen out of the base of his spine. His jaw aches with the pressure to elongate, and his extremities are not responding to any of his conscious demands.

Jensen makes it a half a foot more on the drive of sheer terror before his body triumphs over his mind and he shifts. The next hour is agonizing. It is worse than when Jared bit him and rewrote his DNA, far worse. The pain is bad enough that his mind can barely grasp the concept of fear for his child.

There have always been stories about how males gave birth back in the old days. There were some packs who would turn the humans that hunted them with the specific purpose of mating them so that they would have to suffer the pain of birth. Those packs were eradicated long ago, decimated by their own kind who would not let such injustice and uncaring treatment of matehood stand.

Nobody goes through shifting births anymore. Modern medicine has eliminated the need for a male bearer to shift his child out of his body, tissues forming and reforming around his offspring to deliver it into the world. The thought that he would ever have a child in the ‘natural’ way never occurred to Jensen. Even ultraconservative packs don’t ascribe to the idea of it.

He almost passes out, but he won’t let himself. As much as he wants to escape from the pain, he isn’t going to allow it. The little one might live if he can get him to the hospital. To do that, Jensen is going to have to find the strength to get back up on his feet or paws or whatever and take his newborn to town.

When the tiny body passes from his much larger one, Jensen’s form settles back into its wolf shape. It’s convenient enough. There is an umbilical cord to deal with, and like it or not, biting it going to be the way to go. Jensen firmly does not think about the added danger of mouth bacteria or anything of the sort.

When Jensen tries to shift back into his human form to gain the benefit of opposable thumbs, it won’t respond to his commands for his shape to revert. Thankfully, his muscle and bone do comply with his orders to rise and move.

Jensen’s baby is covered in fluids and looks so strange in his tiny wolf form with an umbilical cord hanging from his tiny, furry belly. But his miniature body is also breathing, and that is all Jensen can focus on at the moment. Breaths mean his child is still alive, and wolf form means that he can carry his child without the use of hands.

It’s feels wrong to pick his second born up by the scruff of his neck and carry him. Jensen made a point to never attempt it when Dustin was a pup, and he had strictly forbidden anybody from thinking about trying. He doesn’t care what wolves do. Carrying a werepup around like that just wasn’t safe as far as he was concerned.

As he speeds through the forest on his aching paws, Jensen doesn’t spare a thought for his hypocrisy. What energy isn’t devoted into keeping his paws in synchronization is focused on listening to the small huffs of his pup’s breath or the muted thud of his heart.

Jared hasn’t even finalized his list of top ten names yet. They haven’t gotten close to fighting over how the initials will look or the way that names could be twisted into playground taunts. They just haven’t. It is too soon. Too soon, except it isn’t.

Jensen isn’t a doctor. He doesn’t know the ins and outs of his situation. His child isn’t clean and warm, and there is a very good chance that he shouldn’t be exerting so much energy right after birth. There is probably some sort of afterbirth that needs to be taken out. But he doesn’t have anything to wrap the baby in, and he isn’t about to risk one more second of his child’s life than he has to.

The edge of Denton’s city limits is the most welcoming sight that Jensen has ever seen. It gives him hope, and he stumbles into town with the sort of relief that he didn’t know he possessed the capacity of having. He doesn’t make it to the hospital. His paws give out on him in front of the woodland florist shop that specializes in ‘nature harvested’ bouquets. There are screams as he goes down, but Jensen doesn’t spare any attention for them. He just makes sure he cushions his pup the best he can when he falls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Floppy Bunny’s well-worn ear greets Jensen when he wakes up. Despite a fresh and tangibly thorough cleaning, its scent still has Jensen’s baby human smell on it. If he sniffs deep enough, Jensen can smell his mother on it as well, and he lets himself drift in hazy feelings of being protected and cherished for a few moments.

The reason for the cleaning is obvious enough. Jensen knows that he is in the hospital. He just doesn’t want to wake up. Waking up will mean facing reality, and he isn’t sure if he is ready for that yet or not. That he is alive is obvious. Whatever giving birth in the goddamned woods did to him, it wasn’t severe enough to kill him.

He is grateful for that. He really is. Jensen isn’t suicidal, and he has a loving mate and an adorable son who would be devastated without him. But Jensen is going to be broken if he…

Just thinking about what might have happened to his little one makes Jensen squeeze Floppy Bunny close. He tucks the stuffed animal under his chin and lets a few frustrated tears leak out. He is alone. He can hear the nurse down the hall, but there isn’t anybody closer. He doesn’t have to put on a brave, adult face for anybody.

Soon enough, he can hear the familiar clomp of Jared’s boots echoing down the hallways. There is no corresponding click from an accompanying doctor, so whatever is wrong with Jensen, it isn’t serious. He knows that the nurse had to have heard him wake up. That she sent for his mate instead of his physician makes Jensen nervous. He doesn’t know it that is a good sign or a bad one.

“Jensen,” Jared’s voice cracks on his name, and Jensen can’t keep the waterworks from starting up again.

In less than two seconds, he is wrapped up in Jared’s arms. Floppy Bunny is squished between them, but Jensen refuses to uncurl his hand from its comforting softness even if it traps his arm at an odd angle.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen chokes out against his mate’s chest. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean… I would never have gone out if I thought…”

Jared shushes him and rocks him a little. “It’s not your fault,” he whispers.

“It is,” Jensen insists. His mind is already envisioning the funeral. Tiny little wolf body being interred before Jensen even has the chance to see if his human form favored Jared or Jensen’s side of the family. Jensen should’ve stayed awake. He wasn’t there when his baby died, and he is the worst parent ever for not being able to stop it.

“It’s okay,” Jared soothes again.

“Jared,” Jensen sniffles out, “he didn’t even…”

“She,” Jared corrects softly.

“What?”

“Our pup is a girl,” Jared tells him softly.

The news is unexpected. Jensen hadn’t exactly had time to sniff out his pup’s gender or check for any abnormalities when he picked her up in his mouth, but it was almost a guarantee that he and Jared were going to have another boy. Jensen is male. Both his and Jared’s reproductive systems produce X and Y chromosomes. It is a huge genetic abnormality, but then again, so is being a werewolf.

Having eggs that can either have an X or a Y chromosome also means that his children have a high likelihood of being male. If a Y and a Y chromosome match up, the fertilization fails. The genes are incompatible with each other and can’t make a baby. It makes it statistically harder to get pregnant in the first place. It also means that unlike heterosexual couples, they don’t have a fifty-fifty shot at either gender.

“I’m sorry,” is the only thing that Jensen can get to come out of his mouth.

“She looks like you,” Jared whispers into Jensen’s hair. “Once they cleaned her off, you should see her coat. All white and dappled like you.”

“Jared,” Jensen warns unsteadily. His grip on Floppy Bunny has gone from tight to constricting. There is a chance he’s going to pop the stuffing out of the small toy.

“Grumpy like her mommy too,” Jared adds in, his voice catching, “hates going back in the incubator something fierce. Growls and snarls and tries to claw at the nurses. It’s a good thing she doesn’t have teeth, because she bit the pediatrician.”

Jensen’s breath catches in his throat. “She’s alive?”

Jared freezes for a second before he tugs Jensen impossibly closer. “Oh, Jensen. I didn’t think that you.... She’s okay. They say that she’s still got to stay at the hospital for a while, but she’s got great odds.”

“Really?” The news makes Jensen’s heart much lighter, but that doesn’t stop him from wrestling his bunny up to his chin and curling into his mate’s arms as far as he can. He still feels horrible. His body almost killed their child, and he’s exhausted, in no state of mind to sort his hysteria out into sane and rational thought.

“I swear it,” Jared promises.

“How’s Dustin?” Jensen asks. His son isn’t used to Jensen being absent, and he can only imagine what he’s thinking now.

“He’s okay. Pissed that he can’t go see the baby yet and worse over the fact that he couldn’t come see you right away,” Jared tells him. “But Mom and Dad are taking him shopping for the baby as a consolation prize. They promised him he could help pick out things, so I make no promises on what sort of outfits we’re going to find when we get home.”

“We’re going to need formula,” Jensen reminds him.

“I know,” Jared assures him. “We’re taking care of it. You just rest up so you and Little Miss can come home as soon as possible.”

“You better not have named her that,” Jensen threatens feebly.

Jared kisses him on his forehead, and Jensen swears he feels a tear or two land on his skin as well as the gentle press of lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Not without you, never without you.”

Jensen thinks about giving a comforting, platonic kiss of his own, but a yawn interrupts him. Jared notices and eases Jensen back down on the hospital bed. Jensen opens his mouth to protest the movement, but Jared silences him with a gentle finger over his lips.

“Take a nap,” Jared orders. With some separation between them, Jensen can see the tears pooling in Jared’s eyes. “Rest up so they’ll let you see her.”

“Should let me see her now,” Jensen complains.

“Yeah,” Jared says, but the quaver in his voice doesn’t seem to agree. “You weren’t in great shape when they… just rest for me, okay? After you see the baby and get poked and prodded by doctors, we can argue about baby names over hospital gelatin.”

Jensen isn’t going to argue with the look in his husband’s eyes. He wants to see his pup, wants to confirm with his own senses that she is still among the living. But he can also feel his own exhaustion and the strange numbness that only painkillers can bring to a body. He can acquiesce to Jared’s wishes for now.

When Jensen doesn’t protest, the worry lines on Jared’s face ease marginally. He leans forward and brushes another kiss across Jensen’s forehead before pressing a kiss to Floppy Bunny as well.

“He’s a good friend,” Jared defends softly.

“Yeah,” Jensen agrees as his eyes start to droop without his consent. If he can’t hold his own little one, Floppy Bunny will just have to do.


End file.
